


The Girl Who Watched Channel Nine

by Rosemarycat5



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputee, Cancer, Found Family, Gen, Make-A-Wish Foundation, Prosthetic arms, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosemarycat5/pseuds/Rosemarycat5
Summary: Sammy, a 13-year-old girl, has a cancer that caused her to lose her arm. She is eligible for a wish from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Her wish? To meet her favorite supervillain.





	The Girl Who Watched Channel Nine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HostisHumaniGeneris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/gifts).

They leave Channel Nine news running on the hospital TV. And Sammy watched it, day in, day out. It was something to do when her medication kept her awake at night or when she couldn’t stand to listen to doctors’ jargon being spouted at her mother. She would watch it when she was too out of it to talk to her classmates visiting from time to time, and she would watch it when her mother would break down in tears.

Channel Nine was the “SuperNews” channel. It followed the local superheroes and their latest exploits, how they would take down the wicked villains who meant to harm the city. The superheroes were blond and beautiful. They could run and dance and talk and fly. They could lift a hundred times their weight. With some of the drugs she was on, Sammy could barely lift herself up to go to the bathroom. Her hair was dark and matted. Her “costume” was a thin paper dress.

But sometimes, she would watch the SuperNews channel and see something she did recognize. She would see him soaring through the sky, shooting bullets from his fingertips. His metal fingertips. One time, they did a special on a major fight, and she watched him remove his menacing metal arm entirely, leaving only a stump. Just like hers. She watched him flaunt his stump, take a sweeping bow and disappear into the distance, escaping the so-called superhero’s grasp. She smiled when the prosthetic arm blew up and the cameras went dark.

Her mother came over to her with one of the nicer nurses one day to tell her the news: her application was accepted by the Make-A-Wish foundation.

“We applied to that?” Sammy asked.

Her mother smiled gently, “Well, Nurse Lilah had the idea to submit an application for you.”

“Oh.”

There was a slightly awkward silence. “Well, what do you think, dear?”

Sammy shrugged. “I don’t really want anyone to see . . . ,” she gestured at the stump where her right arm used to be, “. . . this.”

“Oh, I'm sure that won’t be a problem, dear.”

Sammy stayed silent.

“Well, a Make-A-Wish volunteer will come in later today to talk with you about what you want to do.” She put a hand on Sammy’s cheek. “Try to enjoy it, sweetie.”

Sammy just turned and watched the TV. Less than a moment later, from her perspective at least, a man walked into the room. She didn’t bother to divert her eyes from the TV when he began to talk.

“Hi, Sammy, I’m Martin Cardiff, and I am a volunteer with the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Your mom told you about that?”

“Yep.”

“. . . Oookay then.” He hesitated, apparently unsure of how to deal with the situation before turning to his clearly pre-practiced spiel. “So you’re going to have the opportunity for one of your ‘wishes’ to be brought to fruition. This can include things like . . . um . . . if you want to ‘be’ something, like a career, or if you want to do something, see something, meet someone. . .”

As he was talking, Sammy watched the TV, which he clearly found a bit off-putting. She was going to brush him off when something occurred to her. She turned to him. “‘Meet someone,’ like anyone I want?”

He seemed relieved that she was acting interested and responded with enthusiasm, “Yes, exactly! Well, within reason, you know. like we can’t bring anyone back fro--,” he quickly thought better of that statement. "So, who were you thinking of?”

She looked back at the screen, which was showing a greatest hits reel of the famed superhero and supervillain.

He followed her gaze, “So a big SuperNews fan, huh? Well, we actually have some connections with the local Super Squad. We could get you in contact with Super--”

“No.” Sammy’s face was steely. "I don’t want to meet them. I want to meet him.” On the screen was a clip of Night Raven, his metal arm glittering with the red tones of the fire burning around him.

“You--- You want me to introduce you to Night Raven. One--,” he took a deep breath to calm himself down, "One of the worst terrorists of our time?”

“Was I unclear?” Sammy sat up a little straighter and made eye contact, which she rarely did. “I want to meet him.”

The volunteer made as if to object, but upon seeing her expression, thought better of it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

This had not been how Martin had expected his first time working with a kid for Make-A-Wish to go, but it was determined to be successful. With great difficulty, he was able to find an email address for contacting Night Raven. It was indirect, so as not to lead to him, but the message would find its way, supposedly.

“Dear Night Raven (or proxy):

I am Martin Cardiff from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. We help children with critical illnesses to get a bit of light in their lives by way of granting their wishes. These often include meeting role models.

This past week, I met with a 13-year-old girl, Sammy, with severe Osteosarcoma, a type of cancer that manifested with tumors in her right arm, which was amputated as a result. When asked about her wish, she said she wanted to meet you. It would be amazing if you could help me help her by letting her spend a day with you.

I say this with full knowledge of who you are, but I beg that you do not harm her. For whatever reason, you have earned her respect. Don’t squander that.

Thank you in advance,

Martin Cardiff

Make-A-Wish Foundation”

It was to Martin’s absolute shock when he received a reply. It loomed at the top of his inbox for a long minute before he clicked it open.

"Martin--

This intrigues me greatly. However, as I simply cannot be sure of your honesty, I will have you drop the girl off at the Melbrook train station at noon tomorrow. She will be met by one of my acquaintances.

Fear not, Martin, it is merely a precaution! No harm will come to her, and if it does, feel free to reach out! I jest of course. Do you take me for someone so ruthless? She will be returned safely at her request.

It has been lovely making these arrangements.

\--N. R.”

Sammy had just been given her medication when the Make-A-Wish volunteer rushed into her room. She was pretty out of it and found it hard to get her eyes to focus on anything, and she couldn’t quite remember his name. Still, she tried to tune in to what the volunteer was telling her.

“. . . he’s very dangerous, so I’m going to ask you again if you are sure that you’re okay with trying to meet him. Your mother signed a release, but I wanted to make sure you understood.”

“. . . So I’m gonna get to meet him . . . ?” Her words came out slowly and she felt very sluggish, but inside, she felt a pang of excitement, something she hadn’t felt in months, at the proposition.

The volunteer sighed, “Yes, you get to meet him. He wants you to be dropped off at a train station to be delivered to him. I spoke to the doctor, and he said that you should be fine as long as you bring certain medications with you.”

She nodded slowly.

“The doctor also said they would try to avoid giving you anything that would make to too tired on the trip.” He waited for a response.

Sammy glanced down at her pale blue hospital gown. “What . . . would I wear?”

The volunteer looked a bit uncomfortable, "I’m sure we can have your mom bring your clothes from home. Get some rest, Sammy. You have a big day tomorrow.”

As the volunteer left, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect. Real clothes! She grinned a bit before drifting off.

The next day, she woke up early (for her) and saw a nurse fiddling with some of the machines around her.

“Oh, you’re awake! Today’s the big day! I’m getting some of your medication ready to take with you.” She proceeded to give Sammy a lot of information about what medication to take and mentioned she’d also written out instructions for her, just in case. “Oh, I almost forgot! Your mom left clothes out for you. Let me know if you need help putting anything on.”

Much to Sammy’s dismay, she discovered that she did need help putting on the clothes. Nurse Lilah was aggravatingly happy to help.

Still, it felt so good to be in real clothes. They had smooth fabric that glided over her skin. She hadn’t realized how much she missed having her back be fully covered. The right sleeve dangled slack at her side, and her clothes were loose on her; she hadn’t realized she'd lost so much weight. It was no matter -- Night Raven wouldn’t care. She smiled unwittingly at the thought.

The Make-A-Wish volunteer was waiting by the parking lot. Nurse Lilah reminded her that his name was Martin as they walked to the parking lot. She had to use a forearm crutch to walk properly.

Sammy slid into the front seat of the car-- despite Martin’s objections--and they began to drive to the train station. She observed with amusement how Martin’s driving fit with his personality. He slowed down a long time before stopping, and he always let people merge in front of him, even when it meant stopping for five minutes while the cars flowed out.

At the train station, she was mortified to need his help going up the stairs, but she had no balance, and her legs were weak. She looked out at the crowds of people running to and from whatever train they were taking. Soon a face appeared that seemed more focused and distinct than the others. He spotted her and Martin before grinning and approaching them.

He was wearing dark eyeliner that somehow was perfectly suited to his face. It made the pale green in his irises glow, and the red of his scar darken. He stopped in front of them and gave a sweeping bow before looking up and said, “I do believe you are the special delivery I’m meant to make?”

Sammy nodded, wide-eyed. The man was grinning, and Martin looked exceedingly out of place.

“I am the Caspar Ace. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke to Sammy. He turned to Martin and said coolly, “You may go now. I will take over from here.”

Martin looked severely uncomfortable, but brought his eyes away from the Caspar Ace and down to Sammy, “Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”

Sammy smiled. “I’m more than sure.”

She went off with the Caspar Ace brimming with excitement. “What train are we getting on?” she asked as he led her along. They were moving slowly thanks to her crutch, but they seemed to be heading somewhere very specific.

The Ace laughed-- practically a giggle-- and responded again with twinkling eyes, “Oh, this is the most exciting thing to happen in years! There’s only so much fighting and accounting someone can handle before it gets dull.” He was bouncing around excitedly, and Sammy noticed he seemed to float on the air. “Of course, we’re not going to a train. This is a train station after all. We wouldn’t want to be too obvious.” He winked at her before making a sharp turn. 

He waited a minute for her to catch up. “We have a van coming for us in a few moments.”

Sammy was whisked off to the van as if she were headed to the ball. She sat in the front seat at the Ace’s invitation. As they drove comfortably eleven miles above the speed limit, she laughed and said, “So accounting, huh?”

The Caspar Ace broke out in a smile. "Well, young grasshopper,” Sammy snickered, “The criminal underground has many facets, and not all of them show up on the big screen. There’s plenty of spending and tax evasion to keep track of behind the scenes.

“Ah, yes! Here is our turn!” he exclaimed, and Sammy could hear the tires shriek as they changed direction.

They stepped out of the van in the sprawling parking lot of a steel manufacturing factory.

“I see how he makes all his weapons,” Sammy said quietly with an edge of wonder in her voice. The factory was grey and looming.

Inside, it was large and empty. Its acoustics accentuated the scrape of her crutch and the tap of the Ace’s feet. It allowed for the sound of booming footsteps to be heard before their owner was visible in the concrete hallway. Sammy’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the Caspar Ace for assurance. His bright eyes twinkled in response, putting her at ease.

The thundering footsteps came to a halt as the tall, bald man she had watched on channel nine stood before her. He had at his side a large, hulking prosthetic arm. It had the gleam of newly shined metal, and it was designed to be seen, with intricate etching in the steel.

“So, Caspar, I see you’ve brought my delivery,” he spoke with the familiarity of a sibling although the pair looked nothing alike.

The Ace smiled and gave an exaggerated bow as if presenting her, “Ah yes, your most prestigious package.” He rose at Night Raven’s chuckle and said, “I’ll be in the other office working on the most exciting spreadsheets that I can think of. It would be truly tragic if someone were to interrupt me.”

“Now whatever could you be implying?” Night Raven was grinning and he spoke with a dramatic, humorous tone.

“You’re the big boss. I’m sure you can figure it out even if I am the brains of this operation.”

Night Raven gave him a friendly swat before turning to Sammy, “I’m sure you’ve noticed how much we enjoy having that clever imp around.”

“Hey, I can’t hear you! I’m too busy filing the paperwork!” the Caspar Ace called from the other room, making Night Raven chuckle.

Sammy was amazed by the atmosphere. Everything seemed so relaxed, like they were just siblings hanging out, rather than supervillains plotting to take over the country. It put her at ease, and she didn’t even think about her appearance or her missing arm; they didn’t carry any weight here. He led her to a different room in the sprawling factory. It was decorated like a living room, though the couches seemed out of place on the dark grey floor.

He knelt down in front of her and extended his shining hand, “It is truly an honor to meet you; I was excited-- no-- thrilled to hear that I had a fan.”

Sammy shook his hand, which was surprisingly hand-like, despite the cold metal. “Well, I watch a lot of Channel Nine.”

He laughed. “Not exactly the most flattering viewpoint is it? The ‘SuperNews’ channel has quite clear-cut biases. However, they do like to show me losing spectacularly.”

Sammy laughed, agreeing, “Well, it’s not like I had many options. That’s just the channel that gets left on.”

Though she spoke with humor, Night Raven’s face became a little more serious, “That who leaves on?”

She was startled by the question; it had been so long since she spoke to anyone who didn’t know her situation. “Oh. . . The hospital staff. They leave it on.” She glanced away, embarrassed.

“Yeah. They try to put on what they think kids want, but they don’t always get it. They tend to think kids will be their normal cheerful selves even after whatever they’ve been going through, but sometimes, you just have to give them permission to be . . . melancholy.” 

He was describing something that Sammy had been experiencing for the past several months. But he did it so eloquently, in a way that made it seem normal. “I- I-- Wow.”

He smiled gently, “It’s something I thought a lot about when I had my extended stay at the Hotel-de-Hospital as a teen.”

“Was it when you lost your arm?”

“Yes. It was a car accident when I was nineteen, and Caspar was eighteen.” While it didn’t seem a pleasant subject, it didn’t seem hard for him to talk about. “It can’t have been worse than cancer though. I was relatively quick in-and-out compared to you. You’re much stronger than I ever could have been.” 

Sammy wasn’t sure how to respond other than, “Thank you, but I’m not that strong. I just went along with everything. I’m still just going along with it. I don’t have any . . .”

“Autonomy?”

“Yeah. I have to go with what they tell me is going to happen. I didn’t even get to keep my arm!”

Her sleeve was slack at her side, and she could feel the ghostly itchiness that was driving her a little nuts.

Night Raven put a hand on her stubbed shoulder, “You may have lost an arm, but you get to do something few others get to do,” he grinned, “You get to design your new one.”

Sammy shook her head, “My mother said that I can’t get a new arm because they’re too expensive. ‘It’s that or college.’” She rolled her eyes spitefully.

Night Raven rubbed his chin for a moment before calling, “Hey, Caspar! If your spreadsheets can spare you for a second, can you come over here?”

The Caspar Ace bounded into the room. “Yes, your Royal Villany?”

Night Raven gestured to Sammy, “This young lady seems to be under the impression that she was going to leave here today with only one arm.”

The Ace smiled, “What a novice mistake indeed.”

Night Raven turned to Sammy, “I said you would get to design your new arm. I meant you could design it here. And it can have whatever-- shall we say-- ‘extra features’ that you like.”

“Really?” Sammy was surprised but ecstatic. She hadn’t even let herself entertain the idea of a new arm since her mother explained the cost. It had also been seen as nearly impossible for her to get an arm that actually worked, and she was right-handed.

The Ace smiled with crinkling eyes and led her and Night Raven to a different room filled with machinery and design tables.

“I will never understand how you work in here,” Night Raven sighed.

The Ace rolled his eyes and turned to Sammy, “So I am, of course, the mastermind behind this operation,” this prompted Night Raven to roll his eyes before he continued, “ . . . And as such, I design all the, shall we say, ‘appendages.’”

He showed her to some of the designs on one of the slanted tables. “The kind of prosthetics I make are myoelectric, so they respond to what your shoulder muscles try to tell your missing arm muscles to do. So it reacts like a normal arm should.”

Together, they took a bunch of measurements, and she sat at the design table in between the supervillains explaining all her ideas. The design looked wicked. It would be bulkier than her regular arm had been, but the Caspar Ace had explained they would balance it by using very thin, lightweight metal.

“Will you do all the pretty designs on the outside too?” Sammy asked, gesturing at Night Raven’s arm.

Night Raven laughed, and the Ace rolled his eyes before explaining, “The Big Bad over there does all his own etchings. He is an artiste.”

“It’s true, but hey, it clearly has worked out for me.”

“He claims all the credit for making it look pretty, but who, may I ask, slaved away in an engineering program just to have the last arm I made blow up on live television?”

Night Raven ignored him and said to Sammy, “I would be honored to do the etching on your arm if you would let me.”

As they progressed in the work, continuing to laugh and be light-hearted, Sammy thought with horror of how she would need to return to the hospital after all this was done, and she couldn’t bear the thought. Night Raven noticed her expression and asked what was wrong, prompting the Ace to look up from the 3D design program he was working in.

“After this is done, . . . could I stay here? Rather than go back to the hospital, I mean.”

The Caspar Ace and Night Raven exchanged glances. After a moment of silent sibling battle, Night Raven sighed and turned back to Sammy, “Look. You’re still recovering from cancer, which is the worst villain that ever could have been invented. Much, much worse than me or Caspar. You’ve been so, so strong in dealing with it so far. I’d love it if you could stay here, and we could add ‘kidnap’ to our list of dastardly deeds, but we can’t treat you here. If you had a bullet wound, it would be a different matter altogether, but cancer is a fickle beast, and you wouldn’t want us to be the ones responsible if it came back, and we didn’t see it in time. You have to be strong again. For just a little while. Then we can talk about you coming back. Your delightfully uptight friend, Martin, has Caspar’s email. Have him give it to you. What do you think about that?”

“And I for one plan on visiting you in hospital. How else am I meant to procrastinate on those spreadsheets?” the Caspar Ace interjected.

Sammy looked down, “You-- you know what it’s like in there. I don’t want to have to watch Channel Nine anymore. I . . . want to wear real clothes.”

“Believe me. It’s better to be miserable now and wear real clothes later than to never make it out of the hospital,” Night Raven’s words prompted the Ace to look down at the grey floor. “Not everyone made it out of that car accident.”

The Ace looked up determinedly and put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. You wouldn’t believe how short a few months is in the context of living another eighty years. And after you’re free and clear, you can come with us if you want to,” his face softened back to its impish form, “And you can help us add kidnap to our list of offenses. What do you think?”

Sammy nodded vaguely, and then with a bit more resolve she said, “Let’s finish my arm.”

The Ace grinned and showed her the screen, explaining how it would get imputed into the 3D printers that were lined up on one of the desks. “. . . Now, this design will take a little while to get into full functioning order, but we can adapt a cosmetic arm for you to use in the meantime. It’s better this way, rushing electronics never goes very well. Now I won’t bore you with the details, but--”

“He electrocuted me,” Night Raven tossed in, prompting Sammy to laugh.

“He exaggerates,” the Ace rolled his eyes, “But it is better to not rush the process.”

They worked and chatted well into the evening when the Ace triumphantly held up a prosthetic arm, still warm from the 3D printer. She took off her sweater and they helped her put on the arm. She hadn’t realized how off-balance she had felt, but she found herself standing more upright rather than learning a bit to the side. The smooth material was pale blue in color, and had the logo Night Raven wore on his outfit.

“Lovely! Now, this is just temporary while we, that is to say, I, finish up the myoelectric arm.”

“It’s so pretty!” Sammy twirled around excitedly, but after a minute, she felt a little off and had to sit down.

“Are you all right?” Night Raven asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I just need to take some of my meds is all.” She fumbled in her bag and pulled out a pill container, which she looked at with distaste. She sighed deeply before saying, “It’s time for me to go back, isn’t it?”

Night Raven nodded. She grabbed her crutch and walked out with the Caspar Ace.

She turned back, “I’ll be back after I’m done at the hospital, so clear a space for me, okay?”

He smiled and nodded. She and the Ace drove back to the train station, where Martin was inexplicably waiting. Sammy was unsure how he knew when to come. The Caspar Ace looked her in the eye and said, “Now you be ready for me to show up when you least expect it.” He winked before disappearing back into the crowd.

She walked over to Martin, who looked as stressed as ever. He seemed relieved when he noticed her. He helped her back down the stairs, and they drove back to the hospital. It was a mostly quiet car ride. She did ask for the Ace’s email, and Martin gave it to her with some surprise.

It was a dreadful experience taking off her lovely, fabric clothes and putting the paper dress back on. However, she did get some pleasure in Nurse Lilah’s shock in response to her new arm.

She sat back in the bed that night and, with nothing better to do, glanced at the TV, but it was off. Channel Nine was not on that day. She smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really fun story to write, and I'd love to continue it if I ever have time. I have so many ideas about where this story could go. I really like all the characters, and I'm glad I got to write their story. I tried my best with the material pertaining to her being an amputee, but that is not something I could understand personally. If you are an amputee with any constructive notes for me, feel free to reach out, but don't yell at me in the comments or anything.


End file.
